Zombie Island

by Gamboa, Allen

  The first thing the duo had witnessed was a small group of five or six men pulling a woman who was screaming and fighting for her life, in half. The woman had suddenly stopped making any noise as the deranged men fell upon her and started feasting on her exposed insides. Ben quickly put a hand over Anastasia’s mouth before she could start screaming and yanked her back into the cover of a couple of old storage shacks. Funny thing was, while Ben was covering her mouth to keep Anastasia from making any noise, he needed to have someone cover his so he didn’t start shrieking in fear. Clamping his mouth shut, he started to hyperventilate. As he did so, Anastasia slipped out of his grip, turned and shoved him into the open doorway of one of the sheds. Quietly closing the door behind her, Anastasia rested her back against it to block any of the crazies that might try to get in. Ben, still trying to catch his breath, glanced over at his friend who was securing the entrance with her body. Anastasia put a finger to her lips, signalling Ben to be quiet. The young man just nodded as he sat down on the floor of the windowless, tin shed and tried to relax. To both of them it seemed like hours passed but, in reality, it was merely minutes as the screaming, growling and terrifying eating sounds finally died down, then disappeared altogether.

  “I’m going to have a look.” Anastasia whispered to the near catatonic Ben.

  “No…” He raised a hand to stop her.

  “We can’t stay here forever; besides it sounds like everyone is gone.”

  “Yes, we can.” Ben said, crawling over to where Anastasia sat against the door.”

  “We can stay here until someone comes.”

  “Ben, we need to get help, you said that yourself. Right? Come on Ben. Buck up mate.” She smiled warmly, trying to get the frightened Ben to take some kind of action. Hell, she was scared herself but she knew they couldn’t stay in the shed forever. “Come on, Ben.”

  Ben felt a little braver when Anastasia flashed that beautiful smile of hers. He also knew that the shitty little storage shed without a locking door wouldn’t be a great place to hide if those things came back.

  “Okay,” Ben nodded, still a little shaky. “Okay. We... we have a look first. Okay?”

  “Okay,” Anastasia agreed, as she turned to face the closed, thin, wooden door. Ben sidled up next to her, trying to control his nervous breathing. Anastasia gave him a reassuring pat on the back, then reached for the door knob. She carefully turned the knob and slowly pulled it open a few inches. Holding her breath, she glanced through the small opening. What greeted her was nothing short of horrific. Bodies, some whole, some not, littered the walkways. A sea of crimson seemed to cover the ground around them. To her surprise, a few of the bodies that were missing legs or arms, or both, wriggled or crawled aimlessly across the blood-soaked ground. Truly a nightmarish scene.

  “Holy shit,” Anastasia mumbled to herself, trying to suppress her own feelings, or just madly screaming in fright. The young girl felt that if she lost it, so would Ben. She needed to hold it together for both of them.

  “Ana?” Ben whispered.

  “It’s... it’s clear of those things. Just a bunch of... uh… bodies,” she said lowly. Anastasia turned to face Ben. “It’s pretty nasty out there, Ben. Gruesome as hell, but I don’t see any of those things runnin’ ‘bout.”

  “Alright. Alright.” Ben could see the fear Anastasia was trying to push down deep inside. He knew he couldn’t fall apart if they ever wanted to get home. Ben appreciated Anastasia’s attempts at being brave. “We go then.”

  Anastasia nodded, not really wanting to move, but knowing it was the only choice they had. If they were found by those monsters the shed would be no protection.

  “Do you know which way the security office is?” She asked.

  “To the right I believe.”

  “Okay, you lead, mate.”

  “Sure, sure.” Ben nodded, and quickly swallowed. Trying to control his breathing, he slowly pushed the door about halfway open. Peering outside he saw the same version of hell Anastasia had. Taking another breath and steeling himself, Ben pushed the thin door all the way open. Grabbing Anastasia’s hand, he stepped out onto the blood-soaked ground. The two timidly moved toward where the security office was located about a block away. In the distance they could hear the, now familiar, sounds of screaming and the unsettling moaning from the crazed festival goers. As they turned the corner around another small building, the two could see the security office was surrounded by a crowd of crazies trying to smash their way inside. To Ben and Anastasia’s horror, some of them were even on fire!

  “Ben?”

  “Let’s get the fuck outta here!” Ben grabbed her hand tighter and pulled her in the other direction.

  In a panic, Ben and Anastasia ran until they had unintentionally found their way back to the familiar surroundings of their own campsite. The nearby camps were also thrust into the same blood-soaked chaos as the rest of the island. The festival had been turned into some kind of savage, crimson splattered melee. From what Ben could process, festival goers were preying on other festival goers. Ripping each other to shreds and devouring whatever body parts they could.

  “Ben?” Anastasia gripped his hand even tighter, nearly turning it blue. “Ben?” The terrified girl pulled him backwards toward the temporary cover of their tents. Ben, still staring at the horrifying carnage, felt Anastasia tugging at his arm. This movement momentarily jerked him out of his shock.

  “Ana!” He turned and used his free hand to reassuringly grab her shoulder. “We need to get the hell outta here!”

  “We already tried that! What about the others?” Anastasia trembled a little as the din of the ravenous crowd became louder. She could only hope they hadn’t been spotted by any of the hungry crazies. The thin fabric of the tent definitely wouldn’t offer them any protection from the mad mobs around them.

  “We... we need to try to get to the boat docks.” He swallowed trying not to think about what was going on in the campsites behind them. “Maybe they have some kind of…”

  “Ben!” Anastasia screamed, as she glanced over his shoulder. Shaking, Ben turned around to see what had once been their friend Emma, oddly staggering towards them. The crazed, growling girl, almost tripped over Ben’s old broken scout tent as she blindly walked through its remains. None of this seemed to deter the thing that had once been their former University mate. The undead Emma clumsily crushed Ben’s tent beneath her torn and bruised feet as she continued on her strange, jerky path towards the two.

  “My tent!” Ben cried, lamenting the loss of his old scout shelter. The weird growling and moaning from the approaching girl made him look up from his collapsed tent.

  “Emma?” Ben stuck out his right hand, trying to reason with his milky, dead-eyed friend. The young man noticed Emma was only clad in a dirty pair of panties. The rest of her body was covered in blue patches of bruises and lividity and black and red blood stains. Her hair was stringy and matted with blood and gore. Trying hard not to stare at her pert, exposed breast, Ben grabbed Anastasia’s hand.

  “Is... is she dead?” Anastasia asked.

  “Emma, are you okay!” Ben again, attempted to talk with his slowly advancing former school mate. Black drool dripped from her torn lips as she hungrily flashed red-stained, broken teeth. Ben suddenly grimaced in pain as he felt Anastasia’s nails digging into the palm of his hand.

  “Ben!” Anastasia pulled him sideways as the Emma thing made a fast and unsteady leap in Ben’s direction.

  “Shit!” Ben cursed, as he was almost knocked off his feet by Anastasia’s sudden movement. Keeping his balance, he watched as Emma crashed into the ground stomach first. Without any hesitation, the zombie rolled onto its back and began growling insanely, snapping its bloody teeth up and down so hard that she splintered a few of the bottom ones.

  “Fucking shit!” Ben grimaced, feeling sympathy pains in his own teeth.

  The Emma thing turned on its side, then quickly started crawling in their direction. Still trying hard not to s
tare at his dead friend’s nakedness, Ben hesitated in moving. A hard tug on his arm brought him to his senses.

  “C’mon!” It was Anastasia trying to get him to run. “Move ya ass, Ben!” She shouted. The sudden attack by Anastasia’s old friend had brought her out of the shocked stupor she was in and back into the here and now. Ben grabbed Anastasia’s hand tightly. and both of them turned and ran from the cursed campsite.

  RENT A COP

  Cockatoo Island

  When the first, blood splattered, zombie smashed into the front of Arton Wells’ Can-Am - the small off-road vehicle was the one perk he’d been able to wrangle from the festival producers - the security chief let out a loud, high-pitched shriek. Jerking the wheel hard to the right, the sporty gas-powered vehicle rolled over the top of the bloody and bruised covered man. The small, thick, knobby tires crushed the infected festival goers head into a black mush. Arton could feel the man’s skull being squashed beneath him. This made him nauseous and he turned his head and vomited all over the front of the Can-Am.

  “Shite!” Arton cursed, as he wiped the vomit from his lips. Shaking, he noticed more of the crazed festival goers jump up from the unmoving forms of their victims and start to stumble and run in his direction.

  Not fully grasping what was truly happening, Arton stepped hard on the gas pedal of the off-road vehicle. The Can-Am jumped a little, jerking the security chief back and forth. Gaining some more speed, the Can-Am zipped away from the pursuing crowd of zombies. Holding the steering wheel in his right hand, Arton struggled to grab the radio off his belt with his left. With trembling hands, he brought the walkie up to his mouth and spoke into it.

  “This is Chief Arton! Is anybody out there?’” A naked festival goer ran past him screaming while being pursued by three equally naked zombies. Eyes wide, he gripped the walkie tightly and shouted into it. “Anybody there? This is the chief! All units respond!” Nothing but static. As the small, sleek, four-wheel drive vehicle rode smoothly across the outer areas of the campgrounds he could see the stage centre was fully engulfed in chaos. A couple thousand people were trapped inside. Some were trying to escape the outdoor amphitheatre, while others were viciously attacking those that were attempting to flee. Blood and pieces of flesh were splashing and flying all about. The scene of horrific carnage made Arton drop his walkie onto the floor of the Can-Am. He now realised his whole security staff were gone; dead or just missing. He was now all alone to deal with this insane mess. None of his training had prepared him for a situation like the one Arton found himself now thrust into. Hell, he thought to himself, nothing prepared you for this. It either made you, or broke you. This had broken the security chief. The overwhelming sounds of the screams, and tearing and eating were just horrifying. With shaky hands, Arton knew it was too late to do anything. Hopefully, the ferries to the mainland should still be running. Arton knew he had to get off this damned island. There was nothing he could do to save anyone but himself. The worst that could happen was the company would fire him. He was just a contractor, not real law enforcement. Turning the Can-Am to the right he sped toward the pier. Suddenly, a curvaceous blonde-haired girl, in a too small bikini, leapt into his vehicle. The chief leaned back against the Can-Am’s vinyl jump seat and fumbled for his taser.

  “Keep movin’, guy!” Samantha spat at him, as she pulled herself into the passenger's seat. “Those fuckin’ things are right behind us!”

  “You... you…” Arton stumbled on his words, as he tried to get a handle on everything.

  “Step on it, mate!” Samantha grabbed his shoulder and noticed his uniform. “Get us outta here, rent a cop!”

  “Rent a cop?!” Arton, insulted by the dishevelled girl in the tiny bikini, started to rebut her when the ravenous growling came from behind. Quickly glancing over his shoulder, he saw a crowd of crazed people running his way.

  “Come on, Grandad!” She shouted, “Those assholes catch us, they gonna eat us! And I don’t mean the good kind of eatin’ either!”

  “Aw, fuck it!” The security man stepped on the gas and the little vehicle shook, trying to accelerate.

  “Where we headed, Pops?” Samantha asked, still watching for the hungry dead.

  “Pops?” Arton shook his head. “We’re going to the pier. There should be a ferry still docked.”

  “Good.” Samantha crossed her arms over her chest. “Don’t be starin’ at my tits either.”

  “I... I wasn’t!” Arton protested, as his face turned beet red.

  “Sure, old man!” Samantha said, as she popped a gum bubble. “You get us outta here and I might even let you cop a feel!”

  “Look I don’t know who the bleeding hell you think you are, talking to me like that?” The security chief said, trying to not stare at her prominent breasts and keep his eyes on the road. Suddenly, a shirtless man stumbled into their path, a long rope of intestines dangled from a giant hole in his stomach.

  “Watch it!” Samantha shouted. Arton swerved the wheel to the right, just barely missing the zombie that reached out in vain toward the Can-Am. Its right hand was crushed into a bloody pulp as it slapped the rear tire and fender. The only sound the dead man made was the ungodly moan they all seemed to possess.

  “See, Grandad. Lookin’ at me tits almost got us wrecked.”

  “I wasn’t looking at your bleeding tits and I’m not a Grandad!” Arton grumbled. “I’m the fucking security chief of the whole damn island!”

  “Well,” Samantha popped another gum bubble. “I see you’re doing a bang-up job at that!” Arton just gave her a ‘fuck you’ look and kept his eyes on the roadway in front of him, not wanting to end up crashing because some bloody crazy ran into his path.

  “You want me to drop you here?” Arton said, staring straight ahead.

  “No,” Samantha realised that now was not the time to be her bitchy self. The rent a cop just may push her arse out and leave her to the machinations of the dead. Now was a good time maybe to manipulate, she thought to herself.

  “Look... Officer...”

  “It’s Chief.” Arton said, almost like some petulant child.

  “Uh... Chief,” Samantha said, gripping the roll cage with her left hand. She was finding it was hard, even during a zombie outbreak, for her to be a decent person. “I’m sorry for being a bitch. I’m just really, really scared.” Samantha almost choked on her words, as Arton just nodded.

  “Apology accepted.”

  “So... uh, we’re headed to the docks?”

  “The pier,” Arton corrected her, and copped a look at her breasts in his peripheral, an act that didn’t go unnoticed by Samantha. “Like I said, there should still be a ferry there. We’ll be able to get to the mainland on one of those.”

  “Good.” Samantha popped a gum bubble, leaned back in the vinyl jump seat and relaxed her grip on the Can-Am’s roll bar. “That’s the best news I’ve heard all day Gran... Chief.” She gave Arton a forced smile, not wanting to piss the man off any more than she already had. Samantha started to believe that she would really make it off this fucking awful island. She started to think about that arsehole Joshua. Samantha wished she had never fucking met him, or his stupid friends. She could be home right now tanning and watching TMZ on her iPad. Fucking arsehole, Joshua. Samantha watched, emotionless as a bikini clad, dark-haired woman chewed on the arm of an unmoving, red-haired woman, also in the remnants of a bikini. She really hoped some of those damned zombies had gotten to him and ripped his beautiful brown eyes from his face. What a freakin’ twat! Samantha hoped and wished Joshua was dead, it was his fault she was here and he wasn’t even around to protect her.

  HOT MEAL

  Cockatoo Island

  Despite Samantha's best wishes, Joshua still had possession of both of his eyes, and was still alive and breathing. The young man frantically ransacked the security office, looking for any kind of weapon he could use to defend himself against the hungry dead that were outside pounding on the buildings’ windows and doors. The rapidly
growing mob of zombies knew there was a hot meal inside the small office, just waiting for them. Despite the terrifying sound of the undead attempting to find a way inside, Joshua kept his wits and searched the three officers’ desks. Nothing but stacks of reports, girlie mags and security company manuals. Joshua found a chocolate Power Bar in a drawer and, like the dead outside, quickly devoured it. The chewy, tasteless bar seemed to be the best meal he’d had in ages. Joshua’s body needed what little nourishment it provided. Looking through another desk he found more paperwork, a useless mobile phone, some playing cards and a copy of Eat, Pray, Love.